Page 38 of Love Me Like It's Real
“So, you’re not seeing this guy again?”
I shake my head.
“And how do you feel about that?”
I grimace. “How do you want me to feel? I don’t care.”
He stares at me for longer than comfortable and I try to keep my composure, as if moving will give away my true feelings, which is stupid because I truly don’t care.
Would I have loved a night in the sack with Felix? Of course. Who wouldn’t? Am I going to let that get me down? Of course not. Does that mean I’m not allowed to fantasize about him when I’m home alone? Hell to the no.
“Do you care about the blog?” he asks and when I look at him I see him holding his phone in his hand.
I groan and bite down a curse.
“What did I do now?”
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t particularly care whatMaplewood Matterswrites about me, whoever the hell is behind that gossip blog, but I do care that they’re trying to turn everything I do in this town into a big, ugly deal.
Sure. Ambushing the speed-dating event is notproperbehavior, but they don’t just write about my Anti-Valentine Club. They write about me. About my work. About my gym routine. About my relationship with Mom. It’s relentless and naturally every February they have another excuse to write about me and my“silly, little club.”
“You went on a date, of course.” Jason shows me his screen and I’m able to read the headline.
“Hayworth seen with a new man: does he know he’s trouble?”
“For fuck sake!” I spit out before I can control myself. “How do they know it’s a date? What if it was a business meeting? What if he was just a friend? What if it was someone I was genuinely interested in dating?”
“Are you? Interested in dating him?” Jason locks his phone and puts it into his pocket, turning his undivided attention to me.
“What? No! Of course not! I was just saying if I were…”
“I thought you were never ever in the history of ever going to be interested in dating again.”
I frown. “I’m not.”
“But you just said?—”
“What does that have to do with anything? I was talking aboutMaplewood Mattersand its determination to ruin my reputation.”
Jason narrows his eyes and purses his lips before he says, “I thought you didn’t care about your reputation as it pertains to your love life.”
“I don’t,” I growl.
“Okay, buddy.”
“Whose side are you on?” I elbow his side.
He backtracks defensively. “Yours. Always.”
I huff and turn, whipping my own phone out. At this point as soon as I type inMon my browser,Maplewood Matterscomes up straight away.
I don’t care what they write about me, but what they do write has a way of traveling around town, affecting my family, my friends, and my acquaintances. And more specifically how they see or treat me.
Jack Hayworth was spotted having dinner with another man in town which comes as a surprise to many Maplewoodians who are all aware what he does for a living—breaking people up, in case you didn’t know—nevermind he makes it his mission to ruin everyone’s Valentine year on year. I hope the poor guy he was with knows Hayworth’s attitude about love.
I clench my fist so hard I’m surprised I don’t break my phone.
So this is what it’s come to, huh? Issuing warnings thinly disguised as concern now. What is this vendetta against me, as if I’m the only club member who causes trouble. Even Wells doesn’t get written about as much, and he’s a horndog on top of everything.
